


A Blast From The Past

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: A woman from his past causes shock waves in Garrison's current world, and the timing was lousy.(War years)





	A Blast From The Past

"Just someone I used to know. Jennifer MacNamara, Senator MacNamara's daughter." That was the rather curt reply from a flushed Craig Garrison to the casual question from Actor, which was "and who was that quite lovely young lady in London who seemed so delighted to see you, Craig? I haven't had a chance to ask. Quite an impressive show of affection, in fact, remarkably unrestrained for being on a street corner. Obviously you have been holding out on us."

Cat calls from Casino were inevitable, even Chief had a look of mild amusement on his usually stoic face. Craig was looking defensive, though, hadn't known Actor had seen that display and really wished he hadn't, and Goniff, their usual mischief-maker, wasn't joining in the teasing, was in fact looking increasingly remote, surprisingly uninterested in the opportunity for joining in the fun. Lynn had the look of a deer in the headlights, which was a clear warning sign to Meghada. The other guys were poised, waiting, ready to continue teasing Garrison, including Actor who'd brought up the question in the first place. 

Meghada refrained from giving a low groan; usually the tall Italian was much more discreet, much more subtle in his comments, at least concerning Garrison; she could only wonder what caused him to abandon that strategy for the current, obviously inappropriate, or at least ill-advised one. Well, in his defense, he didn't, couldn't know just how uncomfortable a topic that was bound to be; Garrison and Goniff were, by necessity, being very, very discreet about their relationship, which was still in its rather fragile infancy. Still, as a topic of conversation at the celebratory dinner she'd prepared after their return from that mission that had almost gone so wrong, it was not what she would have chosen by any means.

"An old, very good friend, then? Do YOU know her, Lynn?" Actor asked, pressing the issue, having waited in vain for a response from Garrison.

Lynn cleared her throat in warning, interjecting, "well, sort of. She and Craig were. . . Well, I believe almost-engaged might be the best term, at least for awhile. Nothing came of it, of course, though they parted on a friendly basis." The cheery dismissive note in her voice was obvious, as was the message 'nothing to see here, move along, change of conversation, PLEASE'. For a moment it seemed like it had worked. 

Then, "almost engaged? And to a Senator's daughter at that. Must 'ave been lovely, seeing 'er again like that," Goniff remarked, reaching for more bread, his voice slightly detached, as if discussing the price of eggs at the market this week.

Meghada felt a cold chill, knowing this was only the start of trouble; inwardly she groaned. It had been a difficult month all around, for her and for the team, and she had so hoped for a quiet ending, but obviously that was not going to be the case.

Goniff detached was a Goniff to be watched carefully; his reactions sometimes seemed to be more impulsive and unexpected than even her own. The problem, well, ONE of the potential problems anyway, was that HOW he reacted couldn't be so easily predicted. Oh, sure, in some cases, where something or someone physically threatened someone he cared about, there was swift retaliation. But where the threat was less well-defined, when he got to worrying about whether it really was a threat or just an unwelcome (to him, anyway) occurrence, then it was harder to gauge just HOW he'd react. There'd been a time or two when he'd misinterpreted, decided HE was the problem and that never turned out well, at least not without a lot of angst. At those times, he sometimes had severe impulse control issues, along with an almost complete shutdown of his communication skills. No, not a good thing at all.

She waited anxiously for Garrison to defuse the situation, but she waited in vain. Instead, Garrison abruptly turned the conversation to that last job, what went right, what went wrong. While it wasn't how she would have handled it perhaps, still it might have worked as a distraction, except for some misbegotten reason he ended his usual lecture with, "and next time, Goniff, keep your mind on the job and stop looking around for anything new that appeals to you, alright? Just learn to keep your hands to yourself! We'll all be better off that way!" 

The rising chill coming from that end chair was apparent to even the most oblivious of those seated around the table, even though Meghada thought she was the only one who really understood the reason, understood how Goniff was interpreting that little admonishment.

{"Almost certainly MIS-interpreting that little admonishment!"} Meghada thought in frustration. Especially coming on top of the news that a lovely old flame, no, a lovely ex-almost-fiance was in town. {"Damn it, Craig Garrison! Sometimes you are SUCH an idiot!"}.

No, she realized suddenly, that quick concerned glance from Chief told her he had some idea, knew just how much that unexpected body-blow had to have hurt, and a quick look at Craig's sister, seeing that pained wince, had her wondering just for a moment how much Lynn understood as well.

There was a long pause, then, a cool smile and a laconic "I'll give it my best shot, Warden; 'ate to cause you any trouble. Likely nothing'll come along to tempt me anytime soon anyway."

They watched as Goniff pushed away from his half-filled plate, and leisurely headed out the door to the gardens beyond, closing the door softly but firmly behind him. Silence filled the room, the guys giving each other puzzled looks, and then Lynn cleared her throat and awkwardly asked Casino about that safe that had given him such trouble last time out, and slowly the others joined in. 

Craig was lost in his own thoughts, remembering the uncomfortable meeting with Jennifer, focusing on eating his way through his meal, keeping his eye on his plate, til he felt a cold glare like icicles. Looking up, seeing Meghada now slicing through the loaf of bread, exerting rather more force than was necessary; he got the distinct impression she was picturing HIM laying there on the breadboard as she wielded that knife. He wasn't sure why she'd be upset, exactly; she'd heard him scold the guys before, lecture them about where they needed to shape up; she understood it was just part of his job to keep them on their toes, though perhaps her dinner table WASN'T the best place for it.

He frowned, replayed that last lecture in his mind, wondering - and froze, realizing just how that bit addressed to Goniff could have been interpreted. {"Shit! That wasn't what I meant! Surely he didn't . . .!"}.

But the evidence was in front of him; Meghada glaring at him, Goniff's plate still was loaded with rapidly-cooling food and the always-hungry Englishman himself was nowhere in sight. Garrison swallowed, hard, and started to push his chair back, started to follow his resident pickpocket, try and make amends for those unbelieveably ill-chosen words. But the shrill of the phone, an urgent summons from Sergeant Major Rawlins had him gathering the team, including one silent, stone-faced gargoyle perched atop the stone wall surrounding the garden, and heading back to the Mansion to prepare for their next mission.

The briefing had shifted everyone back to their usual professional mode - well, semi-professional mode, anyway. If Goniff was a little more restrained in his comments, no joking, strictly business, the others put it down to his still being a little miffed at the lecture.

"Dont know why the little Limey got so pissed. Warden had a few things to say to each of us. Aint like it was anything different than usual. And he was right, ya know; one a these days, Goniff's sticky fingers are gonna get us all in real trouble," Casino said to Chief as he hastily buttoned his shirt.

Chief let his eyes go the door of the Dorm, where a still overly-silent Goniff had just departed, supposedly to take a smoke outside. "Yeah, well one a these days, the Warden's gonna maybe learn to think before he starts yelling. Gotta feelin it better be pretty damned soon, too," Chief said, getting a snort from their safecracker, and an inquiring look from Actor. Chief usually refrained from any criticism of their team leader; this was quite unusual enough to catch Actor's attention.

They headed downstairs, to find Garrison and Sergeant Major Rawlins in the big main room. Garrison took a quick appraising glance at them, frowned, "where's Goniff?"

"Saw 'im 'ead outside a few minutes ago, Lieutenant," Rawlins offered.

"Well, come on; transport's waiting," Garrison said impatiently. He hadn't had an opportunity to talk to Goniff alone, would have hesitated to even take the chance here at the Mansion where they could have been overheard so easily. The sight of the slender Englishman, perched on the top of one of the stone pillars outside wasn't reassuring; the pillar didn't look nearly as hard as the look on Goniff's face.

"Goniff, get down here; we're headed out," Garrison spoke, firmly but not barking it as he would have ordinarily done. That got him a long slow look as cool and impassive as any Chief could have come up with, and crushing out the cigarette dangling from his lips and tossing it aside, Goniff jumped lightly to the ground.

"Right you are, Warden, whatever you say."

Garrison shot him a worried look. {"No, this isn't going to be easy. Shit! Well, there's no time to think about it now; we have a job to do."}

 

Meghada had just walked in the door, picked up the ringing phone to find Jake at the pub on the other end.

"Got a lady here, asking about the Lieutenant. Seems she got turned away up at the Mansion by the Sergeant Major, so she wants to see you, talk with you. Told her you don't fancy company much, but she's insisting, so I told her I'd give you a call."

Somehow Meghada wasn't too surprised when, after asking, she learned the visitor was one Jennifer MacNamara. She took the time to make a quick call to Lynn Garrison, just to get a better feel for the situation, and was relieved to find her at her London flat. Lynn made no bones about how she saw things, saw Jennifer MacNamara and Craig, the relationship between them, the two families, past and present. Well, Meghada had always thought Lynn to be a keen judge, seeing far below the surface of what was being presented openly.

Sighing, she hung up the phone, quickly changed into something more suitable than her begrimed gardening clothes - clean-cut trousers and a shirtwaist shirt with darts - paused to select just the proper accessories, added a fitted matching jacket on top and headed over to The Doves. Whether this was a good move or not, she couldn't have said; it could easily go either way. She was really starting to wish she'd been out of earshot of that telephone. 

The initial impression she had was that of a woman totally confident in herself, in her goals. As Meghada seated herself, as they got through the initial polite, smiling introductions, she thought to herself, {"Lovely, yes, Actor was right. And not in a brassy or blatant way. Soft brown hair with gold accents, intelligent eyes, good figure. Her outfit carefully planned, just the right note, fashionable, expensive, but nothing ostentatious or out of place. Presents a warm, soft, welcoming picture overall. Obviously she dressed quite carefully to greet Craig. You'd think she was a gentle, lady-like thing from the way she tries to soften, hide that strong core and implacable will. One thing's for sure - this is one determined woman. The question is, what does she want? With Craig, with me?? If Lynn is right about her, about how Craig feels, this could get interesting."} 

While it all started ever so carefully congenial, it didn't take long for Miss MacNamara to address the subject of what she wanted, of what she saw happening. What it boiled down to - she wanted Craig Garrison, was intent on bringing him back to her side where she knew he belonged, back to the future she said he was destined for, and she wanted Meghada, the person she'd determined was her competition, to back the hell off and get out of her way! It was phrased much more delicately, of course, but that was the unmistakable meaning nonetheless.

Well, that made Meghada feel much better actually; if Miss MacNamara had discarded any real attempt at being subtle, that meant Meghada could too. After all, that wasn't her strong point; she didn't do subtle very well, was much more comfortable with blunt honesty. Although the idea that someone had noted, noted and gossiped about Garrison's visits to the Cottage with this stranger did annoy her; she couldn't imagine it being the Sergeant Major. She'd have to find out who the culprit was and deal with that quite firmly. And certainly it was better that WAS the interpretation put on his visits rather than the real one, that being the one place he and Goniff were free to share some private time without worrying about unfriendly eyes. 

In the meantime, she had one totally confident, utterly determined, upper-class American female on her hands. {"I wonder if dumping my hot coffee over that expertly-coiffed hair would be a sufficiently clear response?"} Meghada pondered, reluctantly deciding against the ever-so-tempting picture that presented. Coffee, even coffee as bad as what the pub served, was still too valuable to waste in such a manner.

Glancing over at the bar, she caught Jake's eye, "my usual, Jake," raising two fingers to indicate it should be a double. Raising his brows and nodding in appreciation for that bold declaration, he reached for the bourbon bottle on the top shelf. She turned back to the other woman, a rather chilling, almost predatory smile now totally changing the expression on her face.

"Do you care for something a bit stronger, my dear Miss MacNamara, since we're taking off the gloves? Or should I call you 'Jennifer', since we're about to get to know each other much, much better, hmmm?", her voice now with an undertone of combined purr and hiss, and had the satisfaction of seeing the American woman's startled reaction to Meghada's sudden change of tone from polite interest to blatant amusement, well mixed with pure menace. 

Jennifer MacNamara had the uncomfortable feeling this wasn't going to be nearly as easy as she'd thought it would be. She'd been expecting a naive little village woman, one she could easily confuse, overawe, even frighten if necessary; she took another look at those glittering gold-brown eyes and that smile and knew, whatever else this Meghada O'Donnell might be, none of that was relevant anymore! This was not a woman to be easily set aside or overpowered. When the redhead shifted in the chair to accept the drink Jake handed her, the well-fitted jacket draped opened, and Jennifer saw the revolver tucked into a shoulder holster. She then caught sight of the leather-hilted dagger in its sheath at the redhead's waist. She was starting to really regret driving down from London without knowing Craig would be available to meet her.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, the American remembered a previous appointment not ten minutes further into the conversation, and "just have to dash. Perhaps later." 

Jake had watched the whole show, thinking it was better than that last book he'd read. {"More exciting, too, even though the book was about headhunters along the Amazon!"}. Now, listening as the American woman's tires screeched as she surged out of the graveled car park, he could almost hear the panic that sound represented. He wondered how Lieutenant Garrison was going to view this little encounter.

He casually asked, "think she'll be back?"

"I do hope not, Jake. I might forget myself, forget to play nice next time," and she just smiled serenely as he broke into prolonged laughter. Whatever words he might have used to describe the scene he'd just witnessed, Meghada's part of it, 'nice' wouldn't have been anywhere on the list. Just why the O'Donnell lass had been cast as Garrison's lover by the visitor, in total error as far as Jake could see, he didn't know; anymore than he knew why she'd not simply explained that and sent the woman on her way nice and easy, rather than rolling her up like that. Still, it wasn't up to him to question her, or to tittle-tattle her business; he just reached for the bottle and poured her another drink in celebration of a well-fought, and decisively-won battle. When she motioned for him to join her, he felt honored.

 

Garrison leaned back into the brick wall, trying to catch his breath. That last sprint for cover had taken the last of his reserves, but he thought he'd lost the two German soldiers chasing him. He could have waited, ambushed them; he was trained for hand-to-hand combat far beyond what an ordinary soldier would be. But, Casino had taken a hit, not bad, but enough someone needed to draw their followers away so Actor could patch him up before he left a blood trail a blind man could follow. Chief and Goniff were handling the other part of the mission; hopefully they'd show up soon to meet Actor and Casino at the safe house. Garrison figured he could make a few more blocks, then turn and take out his pursuers; he'd circle back to the others then. His opportunity came, and it was over, the two bodies now tucked behind some boxes in the back of that dark alley. 

"W'at do you mean? 'E's out there alone? W'at the ruddy 'ell 'appened?!!" Goniff was raging, although in whispers.

"Goniff, there was no choice. One of us had to lead them away, and he instructed me to take care of Casino. You know that only makes sense. And besides, you know he can take care of himself," the tall Italian said, trying to calm the little Englishman, while he patched up their safecracker. Though why that was even necessary, the calming, he didn't quite understand; Goniff was the eternal mother-hen, yes, but he didn't usually overreact like this.

Actor wished Chief would return with the car; Goniff looked on the verge of dashing out into the night in search of their absent team leader, not that there was any chance of finding him; Garrison would have muddied his trail as much as possible. And besides, Goniff was in no shape to be going anywhere; somehow he'd managed to acquire some damages of his own, his jacket and blond hair steaked with dark stains, was even now trying unsuccessfully to wipe the blood from his eyes with the one arm that still worked properly.

They were still hissing at each other when first Chief, then Garrison slid through the door, the Lieutenant looking around urgently to be sure all of his men were present and accounted for. His eyes locked on Goniff, saw the blood, and shifted his anxious green eyes to meet equally anxious blue ones. Their voices came almost in unison, seeming to be torn from their deepest souls, "are you alright??!!"

What was probably just a second or two seemed like an eternity to them, and they both knew that, while there would probably be a discussion of what happened in Meghada's kitchen, there was no longer any doubt in either of their minds as to what they felt for each other, just how unimportant any Jennifer MacNamara's from the past were.

Chief looked on with what almost seemed amusement, though Casino and Actor couldn't figure out what he could possibly find amusing.

"Car's outside, Warden. We ready to roll?" the Indian asked. And with Actor assisting Casino, Chief moved ahead to play the role of doorman, leaving Garrison to give Goniff a supportive arm around the shoulders.

No one heard Garrison murmur, just barely audible even to the smaller man along side him, "when we get home . . .", not getting any response other that quick flicker of a shy smile. Not needing any other response to feel his world settle back into place.

 

No, that wasn't the end of the matter, not quite. There was the ferreting out of the guard at the Mansion gate who'd been much too talkative with the pretty, inquisitive American lady, had seen his way clear to give his (highly uninformed, highly inaccurate but imaginative) opinion about things none of his business. Sergeant Major took care of that little matter rather quickly.

There was Lynn's relating of the phone call and what little she knew about Jennifer's visit to Brandonshire, which took Garrison to The Doves. Jake was a little uneasy relating what he'd seen, though Meghada had told him not to worry, if the Lieutenant asked, that was fine. Garrison had found that scene funny as hell, remembering Jennifer as well as he did, knowing Meghada as well as he now knew her. And when he related it all to Goniff and the guys, the guys laughed and the smaller man roared! Actor remarked through the merriment, "you know, Craig. We have heard her say many times that she, her family, are not particulary talented at being subtle. Sometimes, however, I am not sure she is totally understanding what the word 'subtle' means; perhaps a dictionary would be helpful?"

And, of course, there was that one last encounter between Craig Garrison and Jennifer MacNamara, a meeting she had insisted on, and he'd reluctantly agreed to, with conditions.

Somehow, all her arguments and complaints amounted to nothing, Craig refusing to even speak to her in private, letting his driver, some skinny blond Englishman stand there listening to every word. Argument, persuasion, nothing seemed to sway the man she'd been sent to fetch back home.

When she'd heard that snicker, she'd turned to see the driver leaning back against the car, arms crossed over his chest, eyes gleeful, seemingly trying to hold back a grin. Her most ferocious glare didn't seem to have any impact, so she'd turned back to Garrison for one last try at making him see how much sense her plan really made.

"Father is planning to retire in the next few years; you would be a natural for taking his place in the Senate. He is willing to sponsor you; he has enough money and influence to make it happen, Craig. Have you no ambition? That could just be the start, you know! You have the looks, the background, the intelligence - you could go all the way to the top!!"

That got her a firm, uncompromising, "Go home, Jennifer."

She made a sount of disgust, told him, "Oh, very well, I have to do that anyway; he's expecting me back soon. I'll go home; I'll wait while you play soldier, and when you get back, then we'll . . ."

"You aint listening to 'im, lovely lady. Go 'ome and dont bother waiting; 'e aint coming back," and she turned, furious at the insolent driver actually taking part of in the conversation.

A firm, highly amused voice stopped her tirade, "you heard him, Jennifer. Go home; don't bother waiting. I won't be back; there's nothing back there I want - nothing that can replace what I already have."

She looked at him, then over at the now-grinning blond man, then back again, wondering just what the hell had happened. The Craig Garrison she remembered would have been anxious for the opportunity, anxious to honor his parents' memory in such a way; he'd always tried so hard to make them proud of him. It made no sense what he was doing, what he was turning down.

She turned away, then spun around quickly to deliver the final crushing blow. "I'll tell you one thing, Craig Garrison. You are going to be very, very sorry. That outlandish woman that you've gotten yourself mixed up with down at that little village? She'll do nothing for you and your career! She wears trousers! She drinks raw liquor, in public! She actually carries a gun; did you know that??! AND a knife!! Why on earth you would ever get mixed up with someone like that, I will NEVER understand!! It's appalling! You used to be an intelligent man, have some sense, some ambition! Your parents would have been so proud of you, the first senator in the family! Well, I'll tell you! You'll never amount to anything if you keep associating with people like her!" and sparing on last glare on Goniff, who wasn't even bothering to keep his amusement (or satisfaction) hidden, "OR him!! Your parents must be turning over in their graves!" With that she stomped away. 

The two men watched her til she re-entered her vehicle and drove off. Garrison let a slow smile ease over his face, and looked down at Goniff. "Home?"

"Sounds like a right good idea. Think Meghada was talking about roasting a chicken for dinner. 'Ate to 'ave 'er go to all that trouble for nothing!"

Garrison took the wheel, Goniff settling into the passenger seat.

"Thanks for coming with me," Garrison said quietly, looking over with a wry smile, only to get an outright laugh from the Englishman.

"Coo! Wouldn't a missed it! Quite a show, and I 'ad the best seat in the 'ouse! Almost applauded there, a time or two!" There was a companionable silence for awhile as they made the long drive back to Brandonshire, then a reluctant, more than a little rueful acknowledgement, "you know, she's right. You'd make a ruddy fine senator, and she said you'd likely not stop there. You'll never be anything near that fine if you stay with me, stay with the two of us. You sure you're making the right decision, Craig?" 

Craig Garrison let out a low husky laugh, "I'm making the right decision, Goniff. There are more important things than being a senator, at least to me. Hell, let some of those bureaucrats up at HQ have a shot at that; like I told her, I know what I want, what I'm aiming for." His voice became increasingly enthusiastic.

"Have you thought about after the war, Goniff? Think about how many things have managed to get themselves 'misplaced' over these years. Think about what some of the owners of those things might be willing to pay to have those things tracked down, retrieved. Of course, it would take men with the right skills, men who knew how to work together, could trust each other - men AND women. It would take . . ." and Goniff sat back, watching Garrison's face in the dying light as he laid out a plan that would include all of them.

They both knew they had a good chance of never seeing the end of the war, but just thinking of a life afterwards, a life with all of them together, felt damned good. They were just passing the pub, headed to Meghada's when Craig wound down, and Goniff asked.

"So, a business, the team still together?" not sure how to ask what he really wanted to ask.

Craig glanced over and smiled, "a business, the team still together, along with Lynn if she's willing. A family, US still together - you, me, Meghada."

Goniff sighed with contentment - a long-term future laid out nice and clear, a roasted chicken dinner coming up short-term. Could life get much better than that??? {"Not from where I'm sitting, that's for ruddy sure!"}


End file.
